


Friendly Fire

by regularvoltaire



Category: Actor RPF, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe, DC Extended Universe RPF, DCU, Justice League (2017), Man of Steel (2013), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Denial of Feelings, Divorce, Feelings, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, Romance, Self-Doubt, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regularvoltaire/pseuds/regularvoltaire
Summary: He wasn’t even sure when did it start. The process has been going on for so long, it kinda lost its element of surprise. It's like you're always falling and then when you reached rock bottom you realized, oh so that's what it's about.





	Friendly Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly set during the filming of BvS, although I have a bit of difficulty with the timeline since it's so hard to pinpoint when exactly something happened especially regarding the split. Also I'd like to point out that I knew nothing about the nature of their (Ben and Jen) split (clearly just like everyone else in the world, so the media should stop speculating rumors about them), so I choose to let it rest since I don't feel like I have the rights to tamper with it, as far as fiction goes. Aaandd, lastly I'd like to apologize if I messed up with the time a little bit, I promise you I'd tried my best and I hope you would love the story.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I would like to recommend a song to get you through the feels though (it is what I based my writing on anyway); Just when I thought it was impossible to fall in love with Bruce Springsteen all over again but hey, who am I kidding?
> 
> I'm on Fire - Bruce Springsteen

Henry wasn’t even sure when did it start.

 

He figured it must’ve been sometime during the filming of the BvS, because if it was any sooner (like the first time they met, for example), he would still have the chance to put an end to it, to tell himself that he really, really, is an idiot and this kind of thing never brings any good out of it (Not that he ever experienced this kind of thing— but well, he kinda had an inkling you know). And it couldn’t have been after that either, because then Jeremy Irons wouldn’t have found out.

 

It was outside somewhere—Henry remembered— probably outside the studio, the new set somewhere North of America, or some horrible diners the cast had thrown themselves in. He remembered because that day was the hottest and most beautiful day ever after 2 weeks of constant rain which caused Zack to change the schedule massively, and Henry had went out to breathe. There was a phone call, from his... wife? ex-wife?—He was never sure and if he’s honest sometimes he never wanted to be. Honestly, it’s fine, it’s not the first time that it happened, it wasn’t even the worst one and Henry had managed to go and convince himself to be fine with those stuffs, you know, because he couldn’t flinch each time something like that happened (because it’s not his right to do it). 

But that day, he saw him starting to smile again for the first time in a very long time.

It’s not like Ben doesn’t smile at all, he smiles at press conference, or when someone makes a joke at him, because he’s a decent guy. But those smiles always seems empty, like he’s forcing himself to do it. Today however, he really smiled, the way Henry remembered he used to. Amy had cracked a joke (bless her soul) latched with one too many sexual innuendos, Jesse had played along and Gal looked a little bit confused as always, but it was endearing, and Ben smiled. And then the phone rang, and the frown was back. So Henry excused himself outside (Sorry guys, just remember I also have a phone call to make— No it’s fine,— No, no, wouldn’t take long, nothing important—) and he really shouldn’t, not when he knew someone could easily saw him, but he leaned back against the wall anyway. The sun was blazing hot, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Henry despised it. It’s like the weather’s conspiring against him. No, the sky shouldn’t be that blue, shouldn’t be that perfect, not when he was feeling like he wanted to be swallowed whole by the earth right then. 

“Don’t beat yourself up, boy.” 

He jumped. He shouldn’t, because Jeremy wasn’t exactly sneaking up on him, that was if he was paying enough attention to his surroundings rather than drowning at his own sorrow. And at first Henry didn’t—couldn’t understand what he was saying. But then he turned around and looked at his eyes, and 

_oh._

His tone was calm and steady, like he was saying he just had a salad for breakfast instead of implying on the messed up personal life of his co-stars. And Henry could pretend, he really could. He could fumble somewhere for his phone and muttered something about forgetting to call his agent or something, or smiled and asked—what’re you talking about, old man? But at that moment he knew he couldn’t play that game with Jeremy. 

So he said nothing.

“You can’t do anything about it, you know. Sometimes, that sort of thing just happens, and before you know it, it’s just the way it is.” He wasn’t looking at him anymore and Henry thought— Dear God, this guy can read minds.

“It’s not— I just—” And then he shut up because if he couldn’t form a decent sentence he might as well not.

“Then don’t. Don’t rationalize it. Don’t ask how, or why, kid. This kind of feeling, you might already have an idea of what it is, but the sooner you accept it and let it be, the happier you’ll be. It might not always bear the ending you wanted, but that’s life. Don’t act on it if you want, but don’t deny it. Trust me. You’ll save yourself a lot of inconvenience.” He paused. Henry caught his eyes and they were kind, not judging or condescending. They stayed silent for a moment, because what else could be said?

“And as to who the receiver is.. you can’t choose it, sometimes it’s just as blind as a bat.” And Henry flinched. The line was too corny not to be flinched at, and he found that maybe that was the intention. 

“Really?” He couldn’t stop the smirk now if he tried, though.

“That bad, huh?” The older man smirked back. 

And Henry felt a burden was lifted from him somehow, that somehow it turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear.  The clarification he needed. 

That it wasn’t his fault. Because no, he didn't deserve to feel that way about him, and he was so focused on analyzing what it was before, how could it happened, how could he possibly let himself— that he didn't know what to do about it. And after that time he stopped questioning it. He just, well, accept it as it is. 

And no, he decided there was nothing he could do about that, not when the recipient wasn’t even aware of the existence of the other sex in his current complicated love life, much more of him. That no good would be made at the end of this feeling, that it was just a scar he had to bear through, until someday, somehow, sometime, he doesn’t know when, it would be okay. So he never really told anyone about it. 

And Jeremy was right. Once he’s accepted it, there wasn’t much of a decision really; he couldn’t be selfish. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, because he insists to be a better man than that. That this hardship Ben was going through, he wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of it. And his feelings will remain buried, forever, if it may be, and he will be a good friend, if needed. But mostly he will stay out of the way, because it’s not his business, never will be. 

 

He didn’t even have time to have an epiphany—it was more like a series of small constant realization— the way he thought he would if he ever managed to get to this situation; that there’ll be a parade of airplanes bearing the sign “Congratulations, turns out you’re attracted to men!” But there was nothing of the sort. 

Then he realised that’s because it’s Ben.

And the way it was with him— the process has been going on for so long, it kinda lost its element of surprise. It was like you were always falling and then when you reached rock bottom you realized,  _oh so that's what it's about_. And Henry wasn’t even giving himself a hard time because he just had a sexual orientation awakening, but more for falling for someone who’s on his absolutely-never-should-be-fallen-for list.

They weren’t even that good of friends at the beginning. Henry had met him before Zack called to reveal the casting; it was an award of some sorts, and Henry was the starstruck newbie back when Men of Steel first came out while Ben the perfect humble senior. He was charming, witty, and funny— but Henry had expected that, so there definitely wasn’t some kind of love at first sight strike or something. When they met again for the script reading, they had more chance to talk again, Ben had talked about his kids then; how excited they were to hear him playing batman, and he talked about them with such warmth that Henry somehow felt that warmth inside him too. By the time they started filming, Henry felt like home. He knew most of the cast from Man of Steel, and the new addition had been nothing but amazing to be around. Jesse was hilarious— they became fast friends over regular Saturday basketball game on set, Gal was the kindest woman he'd ever met (apart from his mum, obviously), Jeremy was the greatest mentor, and Ben... well, Ben. 

Thing is, people always expect him to talk a lot, somehow. And it's not like Henry hates the crowd anyway, he does tend to talk a lot when required, to be funny when people expect him to be, to be charming when he wants to, because that's what he was taught to do, because that's what his job requires. But the truth is, inside he's still that shy boy from Stowe with the same close friends since middle school. That's why he loves talking to Ben so much. When they talk, there is no expectation. Ben is probably the most amazing conversationalist he's ever met and can talk enough for 15 people, but he also knows when to shut up. Henry doesn't have to be funny with him, doesn't have to keep the conversation going, doesn't have to do anything. By the second day of shooting, when they were taking a break, they sat next to each other and said nothing. And it should feel awkward, as with all new acquaintances, but it didn't, somehow. It was a comfortable silence, one that usually took 3 years to gain with his closest friends. So that was another  _oh._

They had fun. So much fun that Henry was starting to feel guilty towards the production team. He remembered waking up everyday during those first few weeks of filming feeling light, like he could just fly off— maybe that's what Superman felt like. 

"Batman should die of heat before he even went to battle." Ben said after they yelled cut and he heard someone snorted in the background (was that Jeremy?). It was a horribly hot day, Ben was sweating through his suit and Henry could tell, through the deep frown on his forehead that he must, he must, have been dying to go to the toilet. He just stop saying it after the fifth time getting a no from Zack to stop himself from further embarrassment, so he just started being grumpy in general. 

"Trouble in paradise?" He grinned and the older man groaned, because he knew that Henry knew about his current bowel condition.

"Oh I'm definitely getting that zipper sewed in today. If I have to do it myself, so be it." And Henry threw his head back and laughed and when he looked down again, well, that was the first time he saw Ben smiled and he thought he saw the sun. He remembered being transfixed then, not by the smile, but by the eyes. Ben had the kindest eyes when he smiled that Henry has ever seen. After that Henry grinned like an idiot the whole day that Amy teased him mercilessly, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

It's funny how you took something for granted when you saw it everyday. Worst thing was, he could see it happening in front of his eyes. A few months on, Ben became quieter, he started disappearing during breaks to take a phone call or something, the smiles were gone. And his eyes, Henry noticed, they were blank, like he was in some sort of nightmare he was stuck in. But he didn't ask, and Ben didn't say anything, so he pretended everything was fine. He didn't hear about it until Jesse mentioned it to him (They said there's this divorce thing—) one basketball game, and if even Jesse knew, that meant everyone on the set knew. He didn't say anything, of course, it wasn't his place; that even when he told Ben one late Tuesday evening after everyone had gone home about that one time at school when he wanted to end it because he wasn't going anywhere with his life, Ben still didn't have the obligation to tell him anything. But he liked to pretend sometimes, that this kind of friendship between them meant as much to him as to Henry. 

Henry rented an apartment in Detroit. And it meant extra spending, plus extra leg work to get to set every morning, not to mention when the schedule got set back late and that was why most of the guys liked to stay in trailers at the set. His apartment wasn't big or luxurious, just a regular single man with a constant office job apartment and it was located in the suburban neighborhood of the city within walking distance to their major set. Plus, it was always in a horrible state of cleanliness, so much that he remembered Jeremy flinched when he first visited but was too polite to say anything, and of course Henry had to call him out on it and laughed on him. But he didn't mind, he was a foreigner to begin with so he never really had the chance to experience living a regular life in America. And, if he needed to defend himself for its existence, he could always say it was for research; that he couldn't possibly correlate with Superman, but he might try to experience the Clark Kent- reporter kind of life. Although he usually went out real early in the morning and didn't come back until it was very late, Henry liked to see the regular life happening around him; people who went for morning jogs, the coffee seller (His name is Sandy) who always made him a cup even when his shop's not open yet, the sound of bars and live music late at night when he came back (although he was always too tired to pop in). He likes routine because it calms him, helps him deal with all the bizarre aspects of his other life; so he walked the same route to and from the set everyday. And that's when he saw him for the first time.

It was a little bar uptown, 3 turns from his apartment, in the street that everyone had to pass going to and from the set. He would've missed him, if he didn't always make the habit of keeping an eye on the bar to watch the interesting coming and going of its changing occupants on his way back home. The guy was seated on the stool at the far end of the bar and nobody seemed to recognize him, but that was probably because he was still in his Bruce Wayne get up, —white Armani shirt, hair fallen forward and all— which was more ironic, really, cause he really looked the part now with his head bent and a glass of... whisky? scotch? something murky in his hand. And Henry had a debate going on, believe him, whether he should walked by and pretended that he didn't see a thing, or walked in and sat down, but before his mind could decide on a coherent outcome his body was already moving anyway. 

Ben didn't seem surprised to see him, which he couldn't decide as good or bad— but he looked up when Henry sat down next to him and didn't bother putting on a smile, so Henry was relieved; at least he didn't make him uncomfortable enough to do so. Up close he looked terrible. Henry had a newfound appreciation for the make up team as he wondered how they managed to conceal those dark circles when they were filming face to face this morning. Ben looked like he hadn't slept for days, and wasn't even trying. Henry was going to order a beer but changed his mind to gin and tonic as he thought maybe Ben would be more comfortable if his company was as somber as he was. 

It was the weirdest evening and it should felt weird, except it didn't, it made perfect sense to him. None of them said anything. Sometimes they looked at each other, sometimes he caught Ben looking at him, but not a word was uttered except to order another glass. They just drank in companionable silence. And Henry kept up with him drink after drink, though always careful not to drink too much. He wanted to feel it, this burden he was carrying, he wanted him not to be alone. 

The barman looked at them like they were mad.

He didn't know how long it was, it must've been up to 4 hours because at the end they were the last two at the bar and the streets outside were already dark. Ben was leaning towards him a bit, clearly tipsy, and Henry could feel his body warmth as their elbows bumped on the table. He wasn't drunk, though, because his eyes wouldn't still look that miserable if he was. And Henry had wanted to say something then, anything, to take that look away from his eyes, but in the end he didn't. Because he was a nobody. He'd known him for only 5 months, never met his wife(-ex?), his family, and he was barely 30. Henry had never even fallen in love, yet alone be in the middle of a divorce. And Henry had always pretended, even if it was just for himself, that their friendship might've meant something because he had never met anyone like Ben, but he couldn't pretend, not for him, because he had no rights. The fact that Ben didn't tell him to go away, didn't snap at him, was all the rights he was going to take.

So he shut up.

The barman raised his eyebrows at them asking for the last call, but Ben threw a bundle of cash with obviously too much tip and got up, so Henry did the same. He remembered that the wind was chilly even for an August night, and they were standing under a street lamp that the older man had leaned on just outside the bar. There was a middle-aged man coming home from overnight work across the street. They stood there for a long time, watching nothing, until finally Ben hailed a cab that passed by, opened the passenger door and Henry was about to nod and walked back then to his apartment.

As he turned however, he felt a sudden warmth in the crook of his elbow, and he jumped a little bit when he saw the older man reached out his arm to stop him. They locked eyes, and his eyes, they were kind again, even if it's just for a flicker. 

"Thank you."

And then he turned and left and Henry just stood there like an idiot he was, never even realizing that he was holding his breath.

He walked home after that, absently rubbing circles on his elbow.

 

Ben came back. 

Not every night though, just once every 3 or 4 days, but never two nights in a row, and he always sits at the same stool, same bar (The foolish part of Henry thought that perhaps he did it so that Henry could always spot him, after all it was such a convenient distance from his apartment). He usually knew when it was going to happen, there would be a phone call, a message, sometime during the afternoon that made Ben disappeared for a few minutes. And then when he came back later that night Ben would be there.

That was when Henry started questioning himself. He could not walk into that bar, could pretend not to see, _should_ pretend not to see. The first time was excusable, he saw a friend in need and wanted to help, to lessen the burden. But afterwards? It was like there was a magnetic pull. He was being selfish, he knew, but he kept sitting down— to make sure Ben's alright, to make sure he made it home (—to feel that warmth for a few hours, to look at those eyes, to hear the thank you). 

They didn't talk until the fifth time. By that time the barman had stopped giving them weird looks and just slid them their drinks quietly when they sit. And it didn't happen at the bar. They stayed quite as usual and the best thing about the bar was that there was never any music, which is rare for a bar in Detroit, so when they stayed silent, Henry could hear the world around them. The constant chattering of friends at the back of the bar, a couple flirting near the window, and even, even— the sound of _his_ breath.

But that night something must've happened, since his companion was getting himself trashed. By the third glass Henry realised what he was doing. He would normally go for something lighter after the second, (sometimes they didn't even reach the third) maybe a light cocktail or something, instead he ordered two shots of whiskey. So Henry stopped drinking, because he knew someone would have to be sober enough to make sure they made it home. He didn't want to intervene, and he didn't had to before, they were just drinking casually, nothing heavy. But Ben had just finished his two shots of whiskey with another shot of tequila and was about to ask for more so Henry put his hand on top of his glass and looked him in the eyes. And Ben was drunk, alright, his eyes couldn't even focus anymore and he sure wouldn't be able to stand up straight—so Henry had an excuse, really— to pay for that bill and draped one of his arms around him to walk him outside. 

And _God_ , the situation was bad as it was, but Ben had to  _lean in._

Henry could feel his breath at his neck, and his bangs grazed his cheek softly while he tried his best to support both of them with a hand around Ben's  _waist— for god's sake._ Ben's shirt was rumpled and tucked out, his face flushed. All of these were making his stomach churned in a way he didn't want to analyze so he kept walking. And he couldn't exactly put him in a cab and left, because that would be irresponsible, right? and he would've puked on the way anyway— _Another excuse, Cavill—_ so really the only option was to take him to his apartment. 

Henry's apartment was close, but it wasn't really  _that_ close. They still had to walk some distance, and he couldn't walk too fast or else they would ended up both faced down on the gravel somehow. And so it became the longest, most torturous walk in his life by Henry reflecting on his stupidity of how the hell he let himself got to this point all the way through. Ben was mumbling something. He kept repeating it on and on, and at first Henry thought it was just some random things drunk people usually said, but then he actually listened.

_God._

_He was saying his children's names._

 

His knees buckled at that and his heart clenched like there was a six inch valley cut through the middle of his soul.

It shouldn't happen, not when he just met this guy roughly 5 months ago. But all his common sense seems to leave him out of the door when it comes to Ben. He never felt that helpless in his life, and he prayed, wished he could do something, anything to stop the man in his arms from this much pain— but there was nothing to be done.

They've reached the steps to his apartment building. Okay, Henry might actually see now the point of having an apartment with a security guard at the front door but the thought had honestly never occurred to him before. 

And Ben must've stumbled upon the steps— or he must've, since the next thing he knew he had his back hard and cold on the steps and Ben, somehow, managed to land perfectly on top of him.  Their faces were so close their noses practically bumped, and it was so, so warm, suddenly, the way their whole body touched, and Henry forgot to blink. His heart was beating so loud that he was sure if Ben wasn't drunk there was no way he didn't catch it. He could hear,  _feel_ their breathing. Time seems to go on forever and neither of them moved. Even Ben had stopped his mumbling and if it wasn't for the strong alcohol scent in his breath, Henry would've said that his eyes were sober for that moment. 

In the end, miraculously, he managed to somehow free himself from the position and hauled both of them all the way up to his apartment.

One of these days, he was going to write a personal thank you card to the family of whoever invented the elevator.

 

He didn't even bother to turn on the lights, his apartment had great access to natural light. Henry sat him down on the sofa and he went to get a glass of water (two, because he also needed one). When he came back, he found that Ben had slid off from the sofa, he was sitting at the floor instead, using the sofa to support his back with one leg huddled to his chest and the other splayed free in front of him. 

Henry froze.  

It's not like he never  _looked._ That was impossible. Not with the amount of time they had to spend around each other on set. It's just that he never  _let_ himself to _really_ look because he was scared of the consequences if he did. Hell he was even scared of finding out the reasons of why he didn't let himself. 

Well, too late now. 

There was this way the moonlight fell unto his face—like this night couldn't possibly turn out like a picturesque romance films from the 50s anymore than it already had— the way it captured his eyes, framed his features so-  _beautifully—_ he thought. And that made him went

_oh._

 

But Ben was looking at him now; his eyes a little clearer and Henry realised he might not be that drunk anymore. 

"She said okay." He wasn't expecting him to say anything.

"What?"

There was a fraction of a second pause like he's thinking whether to say it or not; and then,

"She said okay to the divorce."

Well, that explained the trashing, at least.

Henry was gawking. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly look more stupid than he already was in front of this guy, but he really didn't have a respond to that. What could he say anyway? _I'm sorry_ seems too... inappropriate. Turns out, Ben wasn't expecting him to say anything anyway because he continued on,

"I didn't think it was possible. For it to get to this point." His eyes were clearing more and more with each word he said, and he was looking at Henry now, still in the door frame holding two stupid glasses of water.

"I was— she—" His features seemed to grow paler then (if it was still possible), and Henry almost begged him to stop— that no, he didn't have to do this, he didn't have to say it, didn't have to tell him.

"I had everything and now it's gone." He looked away then, and Henry couldn't bear watching him anymore so he moved from the door frame (because he had to do something other than standing around being an idiot all night) to hand him the glass. Ben accepted but he didn't drink it, so Henry took a small leap of bravery and slid down to sit beside him on the floor.

"When my brothers were in the forces, I used to be scared all the time." Henry blurted out. He didn't know why he said it, it just felt—right, somehow. 

"I remember watching them leave the house in the morning and then refusing to go to school because I didn't know if I was going to see them again." He never told anyone this in his entire life. But it's like he couldn't stop when he started. He took comfort that in the morning Ben probably wouldn't even remember half of it anyway.

"And when they made the announcement to send the troops to the Middle east, I was in school and I cried, I cried, I cried, and kept on crying through the whole day." 

Ben didn't say anything.

He didn't expect him to.

They were silent for a long time. But then he realized Ben had shifted so that they were leaning on each other through their shoulders and they stayed like that for god knows how long. As the night and the silence went on, they fell asleep still in that position.

 

Henry woke up first. To great panic, mind you. He found his head, somehow, in the crook of the other man's neck, who was still asleep— thankfully.

But then he glanced at the clock and well— they were positively, most certainly, indefinitely, undoubtedly, indisputably,

Screwed.

Imagine being in a multi million dollar movie production with thousands of cast and crew that stick to a strict schedule that went on from 6 in the morning only to arrive to set and found your two  _leading_ actors missing.

For two goddamn hours. 

Ben looked so peaceful in his sleep that he was almost sorry waking him up so harshly if they weren't going to be beheaded in the next few hours.

Well good news was,— Henry figured—they weren't going to be fired because at least they were late together; simply because firing two leading actors would cost more money than not firing them. But he was pretty sure that Zack would still made them feel like they were going to be fired anyway. 

"Hey, Ben! Ben! Wake up!" Henry was searching frantically for anything, anything at all in the scope of his eyes that was useful to be brought to set somehow. By the time Ben had opened his eyes, Henry had found his phone with its hundreds, (which wasn't an exaggeration at all) and hundreds of missed calls and messages. 

"Hmm.. what—" 

"We're late. Come on. Zack's gonna have our heads." Ben blinked and Henry went to his room to search for a tie and a shirt, somewhere, and then he figured Ben must've finally looked at the clock and figured out where he was and what he was wearing (which was not in the cave with a black leotard in front of a camera) because then he heard a mumble from the living room;

"Jesus Christ."

And Henry couldn't help it, so he just laughed his asses off.

 

He was sure he never heard an undisturbed litany of lecture that long in his whole life with a background sound of Laurence Fishburne and Jeremy Irons snickering.

 

Henry thought that was the end of it.

He had messed up and made them both work extra hours. Ben never even mentioned it, and Henry was too much of a coward to ask. Too much of a coward to wonder how much of that drunken night he remembered, how much it meant to him. So they carried on like usual, worked together like usual, they even talked like usual, just never about it. He shouldn't have brought Ben back to his apartment that night, shouldn't let the conversation went out that long. He shouldn't, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. And that’s why it needed to stop.

The next day, he knocked on Ben’s trailer after shooting and stumbled himself in awkwardly after being invited inside. 

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t meet his eyes, instead he looked down and rubbed his hand at the back of his neck— because that’s how cowardly he was. And he thought, what a joke it was to have him play someone as brave as Superman when he couldn’t even bear to look at this man in the eyes.

“For what?” Henry’s head snapped back up. Surely, he could not have asked that. Surely he couldn’t possibly not realise. But Ben’s expression bertrayed nothing.

”For causing this mess, for— for overstepping my boundaries, for disturbing yours.” He replied incredously and then he bowed his head again. 

“What boundaries?” “I—”

Then he realised how close they were. Ben had somehow walked the safe distance they were in before so now they were literally standing face to face. Memories of the night before came flooding back with their proximity— warmth, strong body on top of him, shadows in the moonlight— and Henry’s pulse raced through the roof. 

“I let you.” 

They were too close now and Henry was having trouble breathing. One more step and they would be in the same position as last night on that steps. It was arousing really dangerous memories so Henry took a step back but his feet bumped into the trailer's wall.

 

_Great. You just have to pick this exact spot to have this conversation don't you?_

Then his words dawned on him. _What did he say?!_

Henry mustered up his strength to look him in the eyes. This was on him, and he wasn't going to give himself any more allowance— look where that got both of them.

"No. No— I.. last night was my fault. I shouldn't have done that— shouldn't have walked in— It wasn't my place to— " Goddamn him and his nerves. He couldn't even form one coherent sentence in front of this man.

"Henry." And Ben— _goddamn him and his whole idea of boundaries—_ took another step forward, crowding him. 

Henry just stopped thinking then. He looked into those brown eyes and saw- recognition? Was Ben's breath getting shallower all of a sudden? Could it be possible that last night wasn’t entirely lost on him? 

 _Impossible._  Surely this was his mind playing tricks on him again, giving him excuses, allowances. 

"I let you."

Louder now. Like he was scared Henry couldn't hear him for the first time.

There was so much heat around the cramped place that they both occupied, even if there was a gun on the side of his head Henry was sure he wouldn't be able to form a sentence. So he did the only rational thing his mind could provide before his knees started to go out, he slipped by, mumbled an apology and left.

 

Ben didn't come for 3 nights after that. And Henry thought—  _thank god,_ _he finally realised that it was my mistake._ But a small part of him somewhere, the one he should never pay any attention to, couldn't swallow a small disappointment in that.

 _Enough is enough._ He shook his head, and by the fourth night he had managed to stop looking at the bar on his way back home. It was Saturday night. He was going to order some takeouts and drown himself in old noir films and maybe call his brother afterwards. 

Dear lord he was pathetic. 

It's not like he didn't have friends or anything. He had a lot of them from way back home, his old school mates and even some from his bizarre job. He even had a few close ones he really liked. It's just that... there was always some kind of loneliness lurking in the back of his soul that he knew wouldn't go away even with the company of 500 friends. And how ironic, he thought as he entered his dark apartment, that the only time that loneliness ever seem to went away was on a drunken conversation with the man he just met a few months ago, the one he swore he wouldn't disturb anymore.

_Way to go, Henry. What amazing self control you have there._

He just finished his order for the local chinese food a few blocks down who wouldn't mind delivering this late when he heard the knock.

_They got Superman delivering these stuffs now?_

 

It was probably his next door neighbour. Marge is an old lady who lives alone except for the occasional visit of her son and his family on the weekend. She's unbearably kind, couldn't care less about his celebrity status, cooks incredible casserole and sometimes she likes to invite Henry to dinner when he made it home on reasonable times. "You know, you look more lonely than I do, young man." She once said and Henry couldn't say anything about that. She was probably going to invite him on another dinner, in which case he would have to turn down extra politely with an excuse that he just ordered something because he really needed his time alone tonight.

But then he looked at the peephole and froze. What the bloody hell was fate doing on his Saturday night cause he seemed to enjoy making fun of Henry a little too much.

It was Ben. Holding two bottles of wine and standing in front of his door like there wasn't anything else he'd rather do in the world on his Saturday night.

"Oh good you're in. I thought you weren't since the lights are out." 

"What—" Ben just stared at him with that look of  _aren't you going to invite me in or something?_

'What are you doing here?" He tried again.

 

"Well, if we're going to pass out and all, figures doing it here will save us the trouble."

In the end Henry ended up calling the restaurant back to double the take outs.

 

And so it happened that Ben started visiting his apartment regularly. Sometimes he even walked home with him and they bought some beers on the way. And it was surreal, and fantastic, and alarming at the same time.

It was— warm.

Some nights they talked for 3 hours non stop about everything, about anything, although he never mentioned the divorce again and Henry didn't want to remind him of that pain even if it's just for a few hours. Sometimes they laughed their asses off or watch anything that was on his crappy television reception. But some other nights they just sat there, drinking in the dark without a word said. 

Sometimes Ben fell asleep first and Henry would just sit there, looking. His fingers felt warm at his sides and he would allow himself to dream then, to wonder what it would feel like to push it back through his hair, to trace those lines of wariness in his forehead that maybe if he wished it hard enough it would disappear. But that's as far as he would allow himself and he would go back to his room then, just to lay awake on his bed until morning.

Sometimes he was the first to fall asleep. Later in the morning he would wake up to feel a blanket draped over him, and at that moment his heart felt so warm he thought it would burst out. 

 

He remembered that it might've been around that period when Jeremy confronted him. 

And now he could fully realise it, could allow himself to admit it;

That he is in love.

 

Henry likes to pretend.

He likes to pretend that Ben is letting whatever this thing between them to continue because he actually likes his company, rather than just because he's sick of his own loneliness and might probably poison himself if he drinks alone. He likes to pretend that sometimes when he looks at his brown eyes it will lighten up and smile at him the way he smiles at his wife. He likes to pretend that Ben catches his breath and his heart skips a little bit just like his does every time he sees him. That's what he has been doing and will keep on doing because that's the only way he could cope. And it's because he knows, if he tells someone about this they would look at him and tell him he's an idiot (he even tells himself that), that he needs to let it go, to move on because he's grappling at loose wires here, the wire being the fact that Ben would never see him that way but he just keeps on letting himself falling and falling. He's in too deep, he kinda feels like he's helpless against it now. This kind of feeling, he realises, it's not something you can just put away by the will of the thought anymore. It will take years, many long, painful years to finally look at him and says that it's alright. But Henry is alright with that, is willing to do it all, because this is his first love. 

The production is being moved. They've set up a massive set in New Mexico for the last final weeks and that means leaving Detroit. On his last walk home he stops just in front of the bar, remembering the first time he saw him there. He's supposed to give up the apartment the next day and returns the key to his landlady, but he walks in then and sees the sofa and in the end he decides to keep it anyway.

 

The filming is going well. Even he's doing that well that Zack starts letting him pass a few jokes on set again. Ben still looks like shit but at least when he does Henry knows he's going to show up on his trailer later rather than drinking himself alone into oblivion. 

There's one problem though. He can't stop staring. Sometimes he finds himself hanging around even after he finishes his scenes just to watch Ben acts. The way he moves, the way he does his craft, it enchants Henry. Although he always manage to make himself scatter before they wrap up the filming, he still catches Jeremy throwing sideways looks at him and he can't do anything but flush at that. 

He remembers the argument. They just finish filming the kryptonite spear scene when the phone rings and Ben excuses himself to the back of the set. 

"No— don't. Don't you dare say that! Of course I know what it means for them, I'm their father!" The whole crew is pretending that they don't hear anything but Henry can't stop himself from staring.  

By the time it's done, he figures he must've revealed a little bit too much in his eyes because he turns back to see Amy looking at him weirdly. 

 

"You're an idiot." 

He snaps back from his sandwich. They're eating lunch outside, him and Amy, just the two of them on one of those weird picnic tables that never quite fit the surrounding but everyone eats on it anyway.

"You're hurting yourself, you know that right?" Her tone is matter-of-factly but her eyes are kind.

"It's not like I can do anything about it, you know." He sighs then and smiles at her because he knows she cares for him.

"Why aren't you taking your chances then?"

"What kind of chances do I have, Amy?" And she frowns like she's about to argue but by then Gal shows up and decides to join them so Henry's saved.

 

After that conversation with Amy he starts allowing himself to have a little hope again. Maybe she's right, maybe he's being too hard on himself, maybe he shouldn't decide that his life is going to be a lifelong misery without trying it first, maybe there's actually chances to take. So he takes that leap of faith and when the next time Ben shows up to their regular drinking night, Henry decides to try his luck after all.

He's not going to ask him on a date. He's not that hopeful.

"Basketball game?" 

"Yeah, me and Jesse, it's a regular thing we do. We usually play with the crew, sometimes Zack comes too. It's 3 PM at the gym."

Henry is holding his breath. This shouldn't be this hard, if he decides to say no, Henry should prepare a shrug, an okay maybe some other time then. 

"Alright then." Henry blinks.

"Really?" He must've been in some sort of a dream sequence or something. It's a really good dream.

"Yeah, sure. But I have to warn you though, my skills are quite.. ah.. how do you say it? rusted by old age?"

"You're not that old."

"Says someone who doesn't crouch after a 2 hours run." It's been such a long time since Henry grinned that wide.

 

Ben is not that old.

He's on the opposite team and he manages to score half of their points, ensuring their victory.

But maybe Henry's just distracted.

Ben's wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants. He never saw him in anything more casual than shirt and slack pants, that even on their drinking night Ben always manage to turn up in a respectable attire, so that's an excuse, right?

He's sweating and his hair is a mess and Henry feels his heart leaps into space. Jesse has to call him out of his reverie a few times (Heads in the clouds, flyboy?) before he eventually forces himself to snap out of it and manage to score a few goals. He shares his routine arm bump with Jesse and it must've been his imagination but he catches Ben gives them a long look then and a few other times afterwards.

He stays behind after everyone's done because he figures he needs to calm his head then. Everyone except Ben, as it turns out. He's still there in the locker room after Henry comes out from the shower. And god is he conscious then, he's only wearing a towel and his hair is still drenched, curls forming at his forehead. There's an awkward moment when their eyes meet as Henry stands in the doorway. He clears his throat, walking to his locker with every intent to take his clothes and change in the bathroom after all. But Ben is following him, his gaze burning through his back, and is the air always this hot in the locker room? Henry needs to get out of this situation quick, before all of the heat he's feeling starts to turn to something really unavoidably embarrassing underneath his towel.

"You're not going back yet?" He attempts to say something, because he really needs a diversion.

"I was waiting for you." Ben is leaning on one of the lockers now, wearing a different shirt than before.

Well that’s some kind of distraction.

"Oh. Um.. you—"

"You and Jesse... you guys seems close."

He’s still watching him, and Henry’s cursing that part of him that forgot to bring the clothes to the shower.

"Oh, yeah. We’re pretty good friends, I guess." Henry scratches his hair, at loss of what to say or do. Well, he’s not at loss at what to do because he wants to immediately disappear into the bathroom and never gets out again but Ben seems to want to say something else so it would be rude to do so. 

But Ben doesn’t say anything after that so Henry decides to fill in the silence.

"You played great. You were really good back there."

Still no response. Great. Geez. Congrats on looking like an idiot for the thousandth time, Cavill. 

But then Ben moves.

And he’s moving closer and closer until Henry has his back cold on the locker room and he’s still moving closer. Ben pushes his hand to the locker beside his head trapping him. And then his eyes flicker— _everywhere._

Henry’s not pretending this time, doesn’t even have to imagine it because Ben is _that_ close. And Ben’s eyes wander to the droplet of water that falls through his nose, all the way to his mouth. Ben leans in then, and Henry’s pretty sure that he’s becoming more and more like Superman with his developing skill of not breathing. 

"Henry, I—"

Then Ben’s hand touches the side of his face. Not moving, just— staying there. Warm. And Henry thinks—

 _Oh_. 

This is what Amy meant. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay in that position. Could be just a second, a minute, could be hours. 

At the end, Ben leans in and rests his head next to Henry, his forehead pressing the locker. The next second he’s gone and Henry has to lay his head back and closes his eyes to remember to breathe again.

 

 

He doesn’t see him again. Henry doesn’t know the reason, doesn’t understand anything anymore. But he’s clearly avoiding him, for whatever reason he has. Well, he sees him on set, obviously, but never outside it again. The basketball game is on the last week of filming and they just need 4 more days to wrap it all up. Ben doesn’t come by again.

It’s December, the weather is horrendous and he’s waiting for his flight home after last night’s wrap party (in which the whole crew sang hallelujah when they got Gal and Amy kissing because they lost a bet). Even the airport’s heaters not really working for the kind of weather they’re having that day.

It’s funny how Henry feels freezing cold but it’s not due to the weather.

 

3 months. 

That’s how long it is. 

He stays at home most of the time, catching up with his family, helping his mum prepares for the holidays. He’s got some new scripts by mail and some other offers but somehow he feels like he’s not ready yet so he leaves it at the table and if his parents saw it they’re too kind to mention anything about it.

His brothers come by for christmas with their family and girlfriends and he’s reminded of how much he misses them. 

They don’t stay in contact.

The first few days Henry keeps checking at his phone but after a few weeks he just puts it away in his drawer. Sometimes though, during really really cold nights when everyone is asleep, Henry is almost compelled to call. But in the end he never does anyway. Because he’s done some thinking. That whatever happened in that locker room, Ben must’ve a reasonable reason to avoid him afterwards. He might have decided to try something there, might even realised how henry felt about him (my god), found out that he didn’t like it and realised it was a mistake. So no, Henry couldn’t do a thing about it.

His mum knows. She always does. But she must’ve sensed that he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t know what to talk about, so she doesn’t say anything. But sometimes she comes up to his room with a mug of hot chocolate and hugs him, and Henry loves her very very much.

 

3 months until they see each other again.

It’s the press tour. 

Henry doesn’t think that he’ll get through it because he knows how much interview is going to be just the two of them. 

Ben looks sadder now, if that’s even possible. They lock eyes the first time they arrive at their interview set and Ben gives him a small nod which he returns and then they shut up all through make up and costume. At least the silence he’s used to.

Ben Affleck is a multi-time oscar winner.

Henry doesn’t even have a single trophy to his name but he’s an actor all right.

And if Ben can act like nothing’s happening, everything’s going on fine, that they’re really good friends and they banter all the time in front of the camera, well Henry can keep up too. Even though his heart feels like it’s shredded to pieces and then glued hastily back in just to barely keep on going, his self dignity is all he has left and he’s hanging on to it because that’s the least he can do.

As soon as he gets the chance to breathe Laurence drags him to lunch. They go to a burrito place around the corner that sells a super jumbo large burrito and that’s what Laurence orders. 

"All right. Spill it out, boy." He digs into his burrito and eats half of it in one bite. 

"Spill.. what out?" Henry quirks an eyebrow.

"You lovebirds are having troubles in paradise aren’t you? Well, I might not look like it kiddo, but I was successful enough in my love life to raise 4 children. So? What did you do? you cheat or something?"

Henry chokes on his burrito.

"What?" 

"Hey, come on kid. You’re obviously dying inside, you’re not that good of an actor you know. So was it the Affleck boy? He done you wrong? What’s going on?" 

"Laurence... We’re not... together you know. Not like that." Well, that’s the truth, right? Because nothing ever has a chance to happen anyway. 

Right. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation over a burrito with Laurence Fishburne.

"You’re kidding me." Laurence stops eating and just stares at him now.

"Hmm? Oh, no— no. We really aren’t."

Long silence in which they just stare at each other.

"You guys are idiots."

Well, that’s the second time. Henry just keeps on digging in on his burrito.

"You wanna know why?" Laurence continues, now fully abandoning his burrito.

"Why what?" 

"Why I thought you guys are idiots?" 

Henry really needs to stop falling for all these lunch invites.

"Well—"

"Because I’ve never seen any two people more obviously in love with each other that is." 

Well, Henry doesn’t have any comeback for that either. 

 

Henry doesn’t believe him.

See, thing is, if Laurence was right, that Ben somehow feels the same way like he does, then he wouldn’t have gone, would he? Because he must’ve known, how Henry feels, even Amy finds out, so he must have, right? Because those drinking nights look more and more like dates and because Ben is many things, but he’s never cruel. He wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t hurt deliberately unless he doesn’t feel the same way. 

And Henry couldn’t afford to have his hopes up again, because the last time he did he barely made it out alive. Because the scar is still there, that everytime he lays his head back and closes his eyes he still returns to the locker room. They could’ve kissed, then. They were so close they were practically breathing the same air. But then Ben had gone, had left, and what was left of his heart couldn’t possibly bear to have hopes again.

But he couldn’t stop it. The way his heart still, still, leaps when he sees his face. The way he would steal chances to look at his back each time he turns around. The way that even after 3 goddamn months nothing really changes.

Jeremy was right. If only love is a choice.

 

3 days later he sees her. 

They’re in Mexico now, a junket before tomorrow’s premiere. He’s talking with Gal when he sees them. 

She’s gorgeous.

Of course she is. Long blonde hair, a smile to die for. 

She comes with him, and they’re talking together, in a huddled space backstage. She’s a director, they say. A successful one at that. When they’re called for time, she says goodbye then leans in and kiss him. 

Henry thinks there must’ve been nothing more painful than death but really he was wrong. 

Ben turns to him then. But Henry avoids his eyes, he’s not going to let him see more through it. He understands though, that this is the most blatant dismissal he’s going to get. That nothing happened between them, nor will happen. He wants to cry then, he never cries since he was in middle school but somehow he manages to survive the whole day and when Gal puts her hand on his back and looks at him with pity later on, he might’ve let a few drops pass. 

 

Henry forgets how much of a celebrity Ben is. That he and his brothers are practically Oscars A-listers and that he hangs around George Clooney and Brad Pitt for lunch or the fact that he practically has a Jason Bourne as his childhood best friend. Matt shows up at the next day’s press junket with his wife, and they’re the most genuine people in Hollywood that Henry’s ever met and everybody likes them. The four of them (Ben with the woman) go to lunch afterwards while Henry makes his day plan to go to the nearest liquor store and gets himself trashed so bad all night so that he doesn’t need to wake up tomorrow and call in sick to Zack. 

He has a few more interviews to do than the others though and when he finishes the sky outside is already darkening and the cast is almost all gone. He doesn’t expect to see Matt Damon still hanging around when he comes out like he’s waiting for Henry.

"Hi." Matt greets him. Henry doesn’t really have the chance to talk to him personally earlier because he seems to be surrounded by everyone everywhere he goes. 

"Hi. Umm.. are you waiting for Ben? I think he’s picked up his stuffs earlier and went home already."

"Oh, no. no. I know that. I’m waiting for you, actually."

Right. Like Matt Damon has nothing better to do with his time than to wait on him. 

"I hope you’re not alarmed. I know we don’t really know each other but there’s something I’d like to talk to you about, if you don’t mind walking with me." He smiles and starts to walk away so Henry follows dumbly.

"Look. I don’t know you. Never met you until today. But I know Ben. Better than anyone on earth." Oh, so that’s what this is about.

"And I think he’s being a big idiot." 

What is it with people calling them idiots? Henry decides he’s going to keep his mouth shut.

"He’s.. making a mistake. He’s a lot to deal with and he’s having so much going on with his life right now. And.. I’d like to apologise, for him." 

His first thought is that Ben’s letting him down via his best friend. Great. Like this day couldn’t possibly get any worse. That thought must’ve shown on his face because Matt speaks again, hastily this time.

"No, no, no, wait. This is not what you think it is. I came here all by myself. I just thought you should know, why he’s doing all this."

Henry stares.

"He’s scared. After Jen, he thinks he’s going to mess up every single meaningful relationship he’s going to have. He’s afraid of hurting someone again, or getting hurt like that. And he’s being an idiot because he’s in love with you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fallen this hard, actually."

Henry is speechless. Matt is looking at him and his eyes are apologetic.

"He has a girlf—" 

"Lindsay? She’s.. They’ve only met for a few weeks. He’s denying his own feelings. That’s why he’s with her. That’s why I have a favor to ask."

"A favor?" Henry is absolutely bewildered now.

"I knew about him. But I wasn’t sure about your— feelings until I saw you today." Right. Okay. He needs to stop being that obvious, apparently. 

"I know you won’t believe what I said about him but I’m asking you this anyway;

Please don’t give up on him. I realise how much he’s hurt you, and he’s impossible to deal with, I know. But, give it another chance. Please. You both deserve to be happy." 

Matt looks so earnest. He could see now why Ben likes him, that this is possibly the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him and he doesn’t even have to do it, he just does. 

Henry looks down then. 

"I couldn’t be able to stop even if I wanted to." He mumbles.

 

They’re in China. The cast is all staying at the same hotel and it’s nightfall when Henry finally makes up his mind.

That that’s it. He can’t spend all of his life feeling like this. That he has to put an end to it, to know, because if it’s never going to work out, he wants to move on, lives his life again. And, if somehow what Matt’s saying is true... well he has to know too.

So Henry bought a bottle of the best wine he could find on the list and muster up all the courage he has and knocks on his door. Henry realises how similar the situation is to the first night Ben came to his apartment and his stomach lurches at that.

The door opens. 

Ben’s eyes widen. 

Henry absorbs him all because tonight is the last night that he’ll allow himself to look. He’s wearing a shirt and the 3 buttons on the top are undone, his hair is a mess of bangs even though he’s cut it a little shorter after the filming’s finished and he has a light stubble on his chin, like he couldn’t be bothered to shave the past few days. He’ll never be allowed to touch his jaw, to graze his hand on those tired eyes, he thought.

"What are you doing here?" His tone isn’t harsh, it just sounds— weary.

"I just thought that maybe it’s time to livin up that old tradition." He motions to the wine. Henry’s gambling with his life here and he doesn’t care anymore. He’s tired of feeling lonely, tired of what ifs, tired of laying awake all night with his sheet soaking wet with want.

Ben doesn’t say anything for a second and Henry thought, well, that’s it then. But then he moves aside, making room so Henry can come in.

His suit jacket is thrown on the sofa and the room is softly lit. He looks like he’s about to pour himself a drink from the minibar when Henry comes because the door of the liquor cabinet is half open.

He puts the wine on the table and sits down. 

"You’ve got any wine glasses?" 

Ben looks dazed, like he’s confused whether he’s dreaming this whole situation, but he finally nods and goes to retrieve two glasses from the cabinet. He puts them down on the table and then sits on the sofa besides him. They don’t say anything and Henry works his hands into opening the wine and pouring it into each glass. And then he downs it all in one go because he’s going to need the strength.

"I’m in love with you." 

It’s liberating to finally say it. Like he’s trapped in a room for a very long time and finally finding a window and opening it for the first time.

Besides him Ben stiffens. His hand pauses with the glass of wine in front of his chest but he stays silent. So Henry continues on.

"I’m sorry. I tried but I couldn’t— by the time I knew it was too late. And I’m sorry I made this friendship hard between us. I—" Henry feels the burning in the back of his eyes. But no, he has to say it. Has to finish it.

"I’m not hoping for anything. I just, I don’t think it’s fair for you when you’re going through so much, and now that you’ve found someone—" Henry closes his eyes then.

"So if you don’t feel— about me, please reject me properly. Because otherwise I wouldn’t— I couldn’t be able to move on. And even for years, because it’s you, I would still—" 

Henry has to lean back then and he almost whimpers,

"Please." 

"Don’t apologize." Henry opens his eyes then. Ben’s voice is hoarse but he isn’t looking at him, he’s looking somewhere far away.

"You didn’t do a single thing wrong. I was the one who’s an asshole. I—"

Ben runs a hand through his hair.

"You were there. Always. I never asked you to but you were always there."

He pauses.

"You were the only thing that kept me going. Your warmth, your kindness— I... didn’t deserve it." 

He turns towards him then and Henry can’t stop staring at his eyes. Their knees are touching but it feels more intimate than anything he’s ever done in his life before.

"I’m a broken man. I hurt people. And I couldn’t let it happen to you. Your eyes and your smile, your light, what rights do I have to take it? I don’t deserve you.  You— you make me want to be selfish."

He smiles then, a pained one, the one Henry will never forget.

"And after everything I did to you, after I tried to push you away, you still come here to apologize—

to tell me that you love me—

what else can I do?"

His friends were right.

They were such idiots.

They were trying so hard, to step back, to fight it, both of them thinking that they don’t deserve it, this chance of happiness, of love bigger than anything they’ve ever felt before.  

They were so blind. So scared. 

But Henry sees it now, and the light waiting on the end of the line is so kind, so warm, so full of hope, he doesn’t want to turn back from it anymore.

So Henry does the only thing that makes sense to him.

He kisses him.

It feels like a kiss 50 years late. And it’s hungry, it’s desperate, it’s frustrating and it’s perfect.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on, their tongues brush and Henry thinks he’s in heaven. They stop for air and their position is messed up in the sofa but Henry couldn’t care less because he finally has his hands on his hair. Smoothing it back, the way he does in hundreds of his dreams, and his fingertips finally touch those lines in his forehead.

Ben’s mouth is warm and slack, the back of his palm grazing so gently on Henry’s jaw and they stay like that. Thinking how many times they’ve gotten themselves this close and never, never allowed to touch, to see. 

And then Ben leans in again.

And Henry finds out he really doesn’t need to breathe anyway.

It’s agonizingly slow.

They’re mapping each other, fingertips grazing every single patch of skin, lips never leaving each other more than seconds.

There’s fire in every touch and they’re taking all the time they have in the world. Ben walks him back to the bedroom, rustles of fabric as they scatter on the floor.

They make love to each other’s eyes.

There are no words uttered, they never needed one. Skin to skin, burning passion, soft lips and eyes that tells one thousand stories.

It feels like something new, like they’re walking this road together for the first time, clumsy and wobbly, but they’re hanging on and not letting go.

Afterwards Henry lies back, breathless, boneless. 

He feels an arm slides around him, pulling him to an embrace and a breath nuzzling the back of his neck. 

"I love you too."

 

Henry had always thought that love was something heavy. He saw his mother’s tears when she walked his brothers out to go to war, his father’s face when he came home one day after his first fight with a cast on his arm.

But he never knew that love could be light like the way his heart feels whenever he smiles at him. Never knew that love could be as simple as the sunshine that frames his face when Henry wakes up next to him in the morning, or as warm as the eyes that look upon him even on the darkest of nights. That love could be fragile, and could be scary, yes, but that everything is worth the risks in the end. 

 

 

It’s the new Justice League film.

They show up together to set for the first time that morning. Everyone is already there.

It’s just a small gesture, he feels a little hand on his back and it stays there a little too long to be misinterpreted as anything else.

Laurence chokes on his cola, Amy starts singing the superman anthem, Gal grins (not smile) for the first time.

And he thinks he heard Jeremy mumbles from the back,

 

"Well, it’s about damn time."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you’ve all figured out the relation of the fic to the title, but if you haven’t here’s a hint: 
> 
> Friendly Fire by definition means "weapon fire coming from one's own side that causes accidental injury or death to one's own forces."
> 
> I think it's time someone dive into this fandom for good, and these two deserved so much fanfiction together I swear. They always look like the quiet ones on interviews and might not joke around as much, but I have an inkling they know each other very well and might even get along better than the others. Plus, Affleck's amazing, it was obvious he was going through the hardest time in his life but he still showed up to interviews, premieres, press, so kudos for him! As you might have noticed, I might have infused a little bit of the characters that they played in the movie unto their personalities in this fic, but that's because I think the casting was absolutely perfect, and that they embody their characters so perfectly they must've shared these little similarities in their real life. Anyway, I've noticed there isn't much work yet for this RPF ship, SO.... IT'S TIME TO LIVIN IT UP SHIPPERS! WE CAN DO THIS TOGETHER!
> 
> English isn't my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors and please, please, do comment, I would very much like to hear your thoughts on this since this was kind of a new experiment on combining angst and comedy. Plus it will make me unbearably, incandescently happy!


End file.
